


Human Sludge

by AnotherRose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Gen, Hogwarts Restoration, Post-Battle of Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-24 20:24:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19731142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherRose/pseuds/AnotherRose
Summary: How would Voldemort start his rule of Wizarding Britain? What would be his first order of business? I was thinking about how the Allied victors WW2 forced German civilians living near the concentration camps to clean them up. Usually stories show clean-up being done by the victors, but I would expect it was more likely to be done primarily by the defeated. That's usually how it works after a war.This is a one shot. Just some thoughts.





	1. Chapter 1

Sludge

The sound of metal scraping on stone floors is gradually becoming embedded into Hermione’s psyche with each round. She kicks some rubble aside and shovels more human remains into the wheelbarrow. They deserve better. She should be able to tell who they were. She should be able to cast a spell with her wand and group the scalp and teeth and bone and soft tissue mush together by human being. Not be shoveling them into a wheelbarrow for Ministry employees to sort through later.

The rusty scent of blood underlies the smell of piss and shit, from some of the fighters in their final moments while alive. Some of the bodies were now evacuating their bowels. Mixed with the smell of smoke and disillusionment, Hermione hopes to never have to smell this again.

The end had been anti-climatic. Hermione had expected to be taken prisoner and held in waiting cells. She expected torture. She expected dark revels and mayhem. She didn’t expect to the defeated to have their wands taken away and ordered to clean up and repair Hogwarts.

At first she had taken her section of the room and tried to group the body parts. But it quickly became impossible. When it initially hit her that she couldn’t tell if she was handling human remains, she had broken down sobbing. Professor McGonagal had snapped orders at her to stop being a silly girl and carry on doing the task she was assigned. Shoving her emotions down, she focused on the grim work and on the most efficient and almost respectful way to handle this job.

There had been dirty looks shot her way when they saw her pull out one of Filch’s wheelbarrows and shovels, but within an hour the gemini spell had been used on the wheel barrow and more had been brought out.

Her shovel catches on a something stuck between the stones. She bends to look and almost wretches. It’s a finger. A child size finger. A first year possibly? With her wheelbarrow full, she puts the shovel down and picks up the handles and guides the load out. Corpses she reminds herself. Blood stains the front of her clothes. Her hands are sticky with it and she is certain she has it on her face and in her hair. The wheel of the wheelbarrow, gets stuck on a large bump and she can’t see what it is. She backs up a bit and rams it, causing the wheelbarrow to jostle and bounce and almost tip over. As she passes, she sees she ran over someone’s disembodied foot. It takes all of her strength to keep moving.

For now, Voldemort is almost treating them nicely. It feels as though he is holding all of her remaining friends hostage. As long as she obeys, they should be safe. Merlin, she can’t lose anymore friends.

Emptying the wheelbarrow at the edge of Hogwarts grounds, Death Eaters levitate the human remains into large wooden tea crates, about waist height and carefully designed to ensure loose leaf tea doesn’t escape. Blood has seeped through the wood, visible from outside.

She makes eye contact with Malfoy from a distance. The terror has left his face, but he doesn’t look happy. Not like the other Death Eaters.

Turning away from the sight, she leaves the wheelbarrow and gathers a bucket and cloth and fetch’s water from one of the girls bogs. Hermione lugs the bucket back to her section and slowly gets down on her hands and knees, and she begins to scrub. And it is then she understands why he is doing this. He is shoving their noses in the horror of the war they just lost. An unspoken threat that any further uprising will result in more carnage. In the process of cleaning this up the muggle way, she gains an intimate knowledge of what has happened to their world. She was a part of making this happen.

These people are dead and she is still alive. She did this because she wanted to protect muggle-borns. She did this because she feared Voldemort would kill all of the muggle-borns and do unsavory things to them. These pureblood and half-blood witches and wizards fought alongside her under the same fears. But Voldemort isn’t doing any of that. What had they really been fighting for?

The more she scrubs at the floors, the more piss and shit and blood smears the stone and paints the ground reddish brown. This is all that is left of her most of her comrades!

“Bugger!” She yells with rising anger at herself and then sits in the sludge and breaks down crying again.

She's angry with herself for her failure, for her loss, for not being enough. She is angry with Harry for dying, for not letting them go with him. And she is sorry. So very fucking sorry. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> July 12th 2019 
> 
> Apparently, I don't know what a one shot is because I've added a chapter. My thoughts have stayed on this idea longer than intended. I have an idea where this could go, but I have eight week trip in eastern Europe coming up. So I'm not making any promises. 
> 
> We all know who the author of the Harry Potter series is and it's not me. Is there any point in these disclaimers?

Half-way through the restoration process, Hermione wakes to Death Eaters and Ministry workers lighting the lamps in the Great-Hall and dragging people from their cots. No, her mind catches up with what is happening. Women and children to one side. Wizards to the other side. There aren’t a lot of children. Mostly, single students and adults and a few couples. At first screams and then sobs echo through the Great Hall.

An official reads from an official form but Hermione’s half-awake mind can’t process what she is hearing. On only three hours sleep and physically and mentally exhausted, her brain is taking too long to process the situation.

In the past six weeks since the battle of Hogwarts, The survivors have been made to sleep on cots in the Great Hall while restorations were ongoing. House-elves gave them gruel for meals in metal trays. Everything communicated that they were worthless prisoners. When prisoners failed to work fast enough, they were hexed and no further argument was forthcoming. It wasn’t spoken, but they all knew prisoners would start dying if they didn’t behave. No one had any idea how to fight against large teams of armed Death Eaters and Ministry workers.

After separating them, they begin leading the men out of the Great Hall.

“No! Where are you taking them?” Her voice tears from her throat as her fear takes hold.

A worker with a bow tie holds his wand on her in warning.

“They’ll be well, just so long as you obey orders.” He informs her.

Her eyes seek out Malfoy for reassurance but he isn’t anywhere to be found. Instead of losing position among Voldemort’s followers, Malfoy held a position of honour. His parents however, were not. Malfoy might not have managed to kill Dumbledore, he did get Death Eaters into Hogwarts and he did switch sides at a pivotal moment in battle. He had added to Voldemort’s attempt to look fair and give the impression that people had a choice.

So the wizards were being held hostage. She should have seen this coming.

“Please don’t do this!” Ginny cries as George is taken away.

There are only four Weasley’s left. Charlie, George, Percy and Ginny. And Charlie is only presumed alive because Romania is a long way away. 

Hermione catches a hold of Ginny as she tries to get past bodies to grab for George. Percy bends his head, his expression away from view. At the end of the battle, Ginny had held strong and defiant. In the weeks following, Hermione has watched Ginny gradually flounder and lose her resolve. There wasn't any sense of someone to fight. Their guards had all been restrained in their authority. Dementor's hung on the periphery. The morose mood had quietly absorbed all defiance and left room for only hopeless resignation. 

“Shhh-shhh-shhh… it’s okay…” Hermione tells her friend but they both know that isn’t true. It's a lie. 

In this new world, they don’t know what Voldemort’s plans are. In quiet corners, Malfoy had whispered warnings that Pureblooded witches were going to be handed out as prizes to his most prized followers. And Muggleborns would be forced to go back to the Muggle world where Voldemort was about to wage war. Hermione had offered this information to Ginny in hopes of sparking her naturally rebellious nature. But it was too little too late. It wasn't a direct threat of death for Muggleborns like Hermione. And she couldn't argue that the Muggleborns would lose their wands because none of the Pureblood's and Half-Bloods had their wands either. What would have spurred a revolution before, was received with resignation now. 

Does she trust the information form Malfoy? Is he playing with her or is he honestly trying to help them?

More importantly, what will happen to the wizards? Will they ever see these boys and men alive again?

The mood is subdued at breakfast in the morning. The gruel that staves off starvation, is as unappetizing as ever. But edible. Hermione suspects they are burning a bit more calories per day with manual labour than what they are eating over the past weeks. So what happens next improves the mood greatly.

After their gruel, bowls of fruit are handed out. Mangoes and bananas and apples. As random as the fruit is, the few children among them are cheerful. The witches look among each other with distrust for their captors, but they can't pretend that the heavy doses of vitamin C and natural sugar doesn't make them feel improved. What does the fruit mean?

They line up and are taken in small groups for their bi-daily ablutions. When Hermione is finished showering, using the toilet, brushing her teeth and taking a shower, she waits behind Grace Falcon. An astonishingly beautiful brunette in her mid-twenties who had arrived with the adults who had come for the Battle of Hogwarts. She had laughed that she chose a fine time to choose bravery. Her first time getting involved with the Order of the Phoenix and she had wrapped herself up in an unmitigated disaster. On more than one occasion, Hermione had been grateful the beauty was there to draw lascivious views away from the likes of herself. 

When the rest of their group is ready, they are led in a different direction.

“We’re not restoring the castle?” Hermione blurts out.

“Men’s work.” Yaxley sneers at her.

A higher order Death Eater, why is he guarding prisoners? Normally lower order Death Eaters and the young are left with that duty.

Grace offers a reassuring smile to Hermione, but Grace is reading the situation the same way she is. Division of genders and gender roles can’t mean anything good.

Outside the castle, a small line has formed and Hermione sees one prisoner transport leave as another arrives. A flying horse drawn coach in black with black horses and barred windows. Four witches are shoved into the arriving coach with frightened cries. Where are they being taken? Dread takes up residence in Hermione’s belly for the entirety of the long journey.

Four to a coach, three watch outside the window. A fifth year Ravenclaw cries as Grace holds her close and offers whispered words of comfort. Hermione must have fallen asleep at some point because a hex wakes her in the coach with an impatient Death Eater barking orders. Cringing from his aggression, she clambers out of the coach and stumbles into the Ministry from the main entrance.

Is Voldemort really doing this in front of Muggles? What about the Statute of Secrecy?

Led down into the bowels of the Ministry, they arrive in the Wizengamot, but the benches are filled with Death Eaters and men she doesn’t recognize. They are using the courtroom, but the set up suggests they aren’t using it as a court. An auction. Her mind helpful supplies.

“Lot thirteen, Miss Grace Falcon! Birth name Elise Rosier!”

A loud hum of voices responds. Even Hermione knows the significance of a Pureblood Rosier. A prominent family in Wizarding Britain, Hermione is surprised she had fought for her side.

“This is an outrage! I demand she be remanded into my custody immediately!” A wizard with graying hair in his forties bellows.

“Now, now, Mr Rosier. You have your chance to bid for her with everyone else.” An unfamiliar face chides the man.

“For the Muggles in the crowd, I’ll let you know that Miss Rosier is the most eligible heiress in wizarding Britain. If you choose to marry her, should Mr Rosier fail to produce an heir, you stand to inherit the second largest fortune in Wizarding Britain and the fourth in Muggle Britain should you successfully breed her. Age twenty-six.” The auctioneer announces. “Healer’s estimate a twelve percent risk of a squib with another Pureblood.” He cautions. “A relatively high risk. For a Half-blood, there is less than one percent risk of her producing a squib and with a Muggle, there is a twenty-one percent risk of producing a squib. Shall I start the bidding at five thousand pounds, or one-thousand-six-hundred-and-fifty-nine galleons, three sickles and twenty-six knuts?”

Resentful looks from pureblood and half-blood wizards are sent to Muggle men in the audience as bidding begins.

Tellingly, they are using pounds. Voldemort is using rich Muggles to help drive up the prices in this auction. Hermione doubts Death Eaters and followers expected Voldemort to give Muggles the opportunity to enter wizarding society. These rich Muggle men would never be wizards but they could purposely produce magically gifted children.

To Hermione’s surprise, Amycus Carrow has the funds to win the auction. “Sold for one point eight million pounds!”

“The idiot just spent every last penny of his inheritance on a witch who will never see him as an equal, let alone obey him.” She overhears Lucius sneer to Malfoy. She hadn’t noticed their presence.

Malfoy meets her eyes as she is jostled to her feet and led to stand on the witness seat. She does her best to calm her heart and looks around the room.

The auctioneer begins her introduction.

“Miss Hermione Granger, known in the wizarding world as the greatest witch of our age. Mastermind behind the Golden Trio since she was eleven years old. No inheritance to speak of. Her Muggle parents occupation of… denteests?” He mispronounces the occupation, clearly unfamiliar with the concept. “Have been missing since the beginning of the war. Eighteen years old. Healer’s estimate a less than one percent risk of producing a squib with a Pureblood or half-blood and a risk of thirty-five percent risk of producing a squib with a Muggle. Odd numbers for a Muggleborn witch. Our Healers recalculated repeatedly and were forced to seek assistance from diviners. Consider yourself forewarned, it was prophesied that she will reinvigorate a Pureblood line with immense power. Of course, Half-bloods and Muggles are free to bid, we can’t promise that fate won’t take her from your hands.” He smiles charmingly at the crowd with some knowing chuckles from his audience. “Shall I start the bidding at Three thousand pounds? That is almost one thousand galleons.” And the bidding commences.

The auctioneer fails to hide his own surprise when the bidding ramps up. Furthermore, to the surprise of many wizards, the Muggle men aren’t simply wealthy, but billionaires. While the likes of the Blacks and the Malfoys and Notts and Rosiers might be wealthier still, Yaxley, Dolohov and Lestrange are not nearly wealthy enough to stay in the running.

“In good conscience, I must remind you that she is a Mudblood.” The auctioneer intones to Nott when his bid surpasses what Rosier had gone for. “And she hasn’t the inheritance such that Elise Rosier might.”

Nott doesn’t back down and neither does the Muggle. He raises his own bid. Hermione doesn’t want anyone to win. She doesn’t know which is worse and she doesn’t care to find out. This is slavery. She is being sold into slavery!

“Going once for two point nine million pounds. Going twice. Going-“

“Three million.”

A young man’s voice intercedes. There is a moment of confusion and then an amused huff from the auctioneer. Hermione sees Malfoy lifting his father’s elbow of the attached arm holding his numbered paddle and Lucius’ resulting scowl at his son. There is a quiet, sharp rebuke but then Lucius wouldn’t deny his son.

“Is that correct, three million?”

With reluctance, Lucius nods in acknowledgement.

“Very well. I have three million for the bright eyed and bushy tailed little witch. Do I hear three million one?”

Nott Sr raises an eyebrow at Lucius. Disdainfully, Lucius indicates to Malfoy. Mouth curling up at one side, Nott Sr lowers his paddle. The bidding continues to almost four million before the Muggle relents, deciding that this isn’t a bargain anymore.

As she is led out of the court, she hears Lucius following behind.

“The Malfoy’s always get the best. But what, pray tell, is the best about the Mudblood?”

There is a pause and Hermione holds her breath to hear Malfoy’s response. “I was thinking…”

Suddenly, there is yelling from the stands and a bright green light. It happened so fast, Hermione couldn’t respond, only recognize that the light was heading directly for her. Only, it stopped before her. Malfoy jumped between her and the light, his eyes determined right before he is struck the light in his eyes fades instantly. There is screaming and shouting around her, but Hermione can only stand there and stare at Malfoy’s body on the floor.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this. Please leave a review.


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